He smiled, his white teeth reflecting the glow of the fire. My blood turned cold. A cloud of smoke billowed in front of my face, burning my eyes so I turned away. When I looked back, the guy was gone. All I could see was an enormous black dog loping across the fairway.
With a sickening CRACK, half of the ghost train building fell away. The Ferris wheel groaned. The outer ring slid off the edge of the collapsed structure. I ducked as a live wire swung dangerously close to my head. A gondola dangled just above me, two pairs of legs hanging over the edge of the wooden seat. The owners of the legs weren’t moving or crying out.
That could be my parents. I have to—
The Ferris wheel lurched again. I rolled away as the beam above my head crashed to the ground. I scrambled back as the entire outer ring collapsed, folding in on itself like some kind of terrible accordion. Burning hot debris slammed around me as the whole ghost train collapsed, and both structures crashed into the ground.
The force knocked me off my feet, slamming me hard onto the packed earth. My head hit something hard, and stars appeared in my vision. I tried to get up, but the heat rolled over me, paralyzing me in place. Moving only made my head spin worse, and the world around me bubbled and blurred.
I’m going to die… I’m going to burn up right here…
Mr. British’s face appeared in my vision. His big eyes filled my vision, reflecting dancing orange flames. At least the last thing I saw before I died was a really hot guy. I could do much worse.
Then the vision blurred away to nothing, and the world went black.
2
MAEVE
I woke with a start, my eyes flying open. The wheel. The fire. My parents!
My whole body tensed, ready to leap out of the way of the wall of fire barreling toward me. But as my eyes took in what was around me, and my body registered smell and light and something soft beneath me –not the hard-packed dirt of the fairground – I realized I was no longer at the fair.
There were no flames, no heat torching my skin, no fiery eyes of Mr. British as he tried to shield me with his body and ended up burning alive before my eyes. I was in my bed back at the Crawford’s house, my whole body drenched in sweat.
It was a dream, thank God. My parents hadn’t really burned alive on a Ferris wheel. I should have known. Only in my dreams would a guy like Mr. British be interested in me.
I rubbed my arms, still feeling the heat of the fire in my skin. I sucked in a deep breath, and the back of my throat recoiled in agony, sending me into a violent coughing fit. It was as though I could still feel the smoke in my lungs.
It had felt so real.
For as long as I could remember, I’d had incredibly vivid dreams and lucid dreams, where I was aware I was dreaming and able to make my own decisions and choose what happened next (I usually chose to drop everything and float through space or land on Mars. Those were my favorite dreams). But this… this was the worst nightmare I’d ever had.
Sunlight streamed through my open windows, the pale blue curtains flapping in the breeze. Between the windows, Kelly sprawled out on my blue daybed, a pile of fashion magazines and an open bottle of bourbon spread out around her. Her golden hair hung limply over her eyes.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” she said, her voice dull and throaty. “You look like shit.”
“Nice to see you, too.” The words stung my raw throat. Maybe I’d been yelling in my sleep. I did that sometimes, too. I rubbed my head. “I just had the most horrible nightmare. Where’d you get that bottle from? Mom’ll kill you if she smells alcohol in here.” Our parents never let us have even a drop of alcohol in the house, and you could forget about horror films or Harry Potter books or premarital sex. We weren’t even allowed to have Facebook accounts (we did all of these things anyway, but they didn’t know that).
Kelly shook her head, and tears pooled in her eyes. Unease stabbed at my gut. Kelly was the strongest person I knew. She never cried. If she was breaking down now… something must’ve happened.
“You okay, sis? Did we run out of bacon or something?” Kelly always begged for bacon for breakfast.
Kelly shook her head. “Maeve… it’s about Mom and Dad. They…” she choked on her next word as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
The uneasy feeling intensified. “What happened to Mom and Dad?” I demanded. “Are they okay?”
“Maeve…” Kelly’s voice trailed off. She blinked, but the tears kept on coming. “Mom and Dad are—”
She didn’t need to finish her sentence. I could read my adoptive sister like a star chart. I knew.
My dream wasn’t a dream after all.
The Crawfords were dead.
3
MAEVE
What?
Shit.
No.
Mom and Dad… the Ferris wheel… those lifeless legs hanging from the mangled gondola… The dream that was actually a memory hit me with full force, raw and painful. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that might somehow reset the clock to before that stupid county fair, and I could beg them to take me to Ruby’s Diner or throw a party at the house instead.
Dead.
No.
It can’t be.
Louise and Matthew Crawford weren’t my biological parents. My real mother died during childbirth back in England, and as far as anyone knew, my real father wasn’t in the picture at that stage. My mother had no living relatives, so I was released into the truly delightful English foster care system. I lived in an orphanage for a few years – I don’t remember it at all, except in weird flashes in my dreams, which didn’t count – before the Crawfords visited London doing their missionary work, fell in love with me at first sight, and somehow found a way to obtain an international adoption. (“It was difficult,” Mom always said when I asked her, “but it was worth it for you.”) Kelly and I always suspected it was illegal, but we knew better than to bring that up.
Apparently, I loved them instantly, too, and I cried for three days when they left the orphanage, before they came back for me. This didn’t surprise me – with their hearty Southwestern accents, their eyes that sparkled like the ocean, and their ridiculous eternal optimism that God would sort everything out in the end, they were pretty damn easy to love.
Even when I became a surly teenager obsessed with astronomy and denounced religion with all the subtlety and sensitivity a fourteen-year-old could muster, they never discouraged me. Once, I got sent home from school for refusing to write an essay on the scientific evidence for Noah’s flood, and instead of yelling at me, they convinced my teachers to allow me to hand in an essay about the Voyager missions instead. I remembered the day I got my scholarship for MIT – Dad had tears in his eyes as he pinned the letter to the fridge. At his Sunday sermon he managed to mention it at least three times.
How could they just be dead? How could such kind and wonderful people be gone from the world? How could their stupid God betray them like that?
The grief crushed against me, pressing in on me from all sides. I gasped for air, squeezing Kelly tight against me as I fought against the invisible force that threatened to collapse me in upon myself, like a black hole sucking in everything around it.
“I couldn’t save them,” I whispered. The guilt ate my insides. If I’d just moved faster. If I’d stayed inside the wheel a bit longer, I might have had a chance—
The bed creaked. Kelly threw herself against me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “You were so brave, running into the fire like that. I thought I lost you, too. And then you wouldn’t wake up,” she whimpered. “You’re all I have left.”
Kelly burrowed her head into my shoulder, her tears puddling on my t-shirt. This was all wrong. Kelly never cried. I was the wailer – running bawling to Mom whenever Kelly broke the rules of a game. Rules were very important to me.
But not as important as Mom and Dad, and yet now I couldn’t muster up even a single tear. I felt numb all over, worn and squashed by the force of the grief. I rested a hand on my chest, f
eeling my heart pounding against my palm.
“How… how long have I been out?” I asked.
“A couple of days,” Kelly sniffed. “I can’t… I don’t remember exactly. You’ve been in and out a bit.”
Oh, jeez, she’s been here, alone, since the accident, waiting for me to wake up. I hugged Kelly to me, holding her close, letting her spill her grief over me, hoping it might draw up some of my own. But I didn’t. I remained numb.
After a time, Kelly’s sniffles died down, and my stomach growled. I realized that I must not have eaten anything for days. Kelly might not have, either. She could barely boil an egg when she was in full control of her faculties.
“We should get some food,” I said, pulling my legs off the bed. Kelly grabbed my arm, her red-ringed eyes burning into mine.
“Don’t even think about getting up. That guy said you hit your head pretty hard, and you should be careful in case you have a concussion.”
“What guy?”
“That hot British guy you totally blanked me for. He carried you out of the flames and helped me get you home.”
“He did?” I glanced around the room. Mr. British had been in my room? If I’d had any chance with him, it would be over now that he’d seen my pink ruffled sheets and the telescope at the window and the rows of dolls sitting on top of the bureau. My eyes fell on the overflowing laundry basket. Please don’t tell me he saw my underwear, too.
And then I remembered that my parents were dead, and my sister had been on her own since she got that news, and I hated myself for even thinking about a guy right now. My cheeks burned with guilt. What is wrong with me?
I rubbed my burning cheeks. “Why am I not in a hospital?”
“He said it wasn’t a good idea. He said the ER would be full of people from the accident, and we didn’t have insurance so it would be expensive, and… he was right. I mean, I saw them carrying away people in the ambulance. He said he could help you, and I… I didn’t know what else to do…”
“It’s fine,” I hugged her again. “You did good.”
“I thought he was a doctor or something. He knew exactly what to do. He showed me how to treat your burns.” Kelly lifted one of the bandages around my arm. I looked down, but I couldn’t see any burn on my skin.
“Wow,” Kelly rubbed my arm. “This was all red and blistered the other day. He must be a really good doctor.”
“Where is he now?”
Kelly shrugged. “He just tied off that last bandage and left. I didn’t ask where he was going. I was a little distracted, you know?”
And then she was crying again – big, heaving sobs that shuddered through her entire body. I wrapped her in my arms, pressing my cheek to hers and feeling her tears slide over my skin as if they were my own.
They’re gone. They’ll never come in at night to say a goodnight prayer with me. They’ll never wake us up at stupid-o'clock on a Sunday morning for pre-Church chocolate-chip pancakes. They’ll never see me graduate MIT, or win a Nobel Prize, or walk on Mars.
So, why can’t I cry?
My stomach rumbled again. “I’m guessing we don’t have any food in the house?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kelly swiped at her leaking eyes. “An endless stream of well-wishers have paraded through the door, each one loaded down with casseroles in all the flavors of the rainbow. Of course, most of them came for the gory details about the accident. It’s the talk of the town, but I can’t… oh, Maeve, it was so terrible.”
“I know.”
Kelly sniffed, wiping her nose. “Anyway, you’re awake now. I need so much help. There’s all this paperwork to go over, and Pastor Tim and Daddy’s lawyer keep bugging me. I don’t understand what any of them want—”
“Of course I’ll help.”
“Oh,” Kelly drew a couple of envelopes off the nightstand and plopped them in my lap. “You got some mail. One of them’s from MIT.”
I stared at the college crest on the first envelope. The symbol of my future, the first step toward getting into the NASA space program. Ever since I’d got my acceptance and scholarship, I’d been unable to think about college without excited butterflies in my stomach. A giddy smile would spread over my lips. But now, I felt nothing – the same crushing, harrowing numbness.
It meant nothing without them.
I could see from Kelly’s face that she desperately wanted a distraction. “Let’s see what they say, then,” I said, unsure if it was a good idea to remind Kelly that in forty-one days time (forty? Thirty-nine? I needed to figure that out, stat) I’d be leaving her for Massachusetts and theoretical physics. I slit open the envelope and pulled out a single page.
Dear Ms. Crawford,
Recently you received a letter stating you received the Neil Armstrong Astronomy Scholarship, which would pay tuition fees and a full stipend to complete an advanced degree in Physics or Engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
I regret to inform you that this letter was sent in error. Unfortunately, you were not successful in your application and you will not be receiving the scholarship.
This does not impact your position at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and your place is still being held. I apologize for any inconvenience caused.
Sincerely,
Professor Pauline Breuntas
Head of Physics
I stared at the page until the letters stopped spelling words – they became crude scratches on the page, weird looped hieroglyphs that held some long forgotten meaning.
My scholarship was gone. Without that money, I couldn’t afford to go to college at a school like that. Because of the “complications” around my adoption, I couldn’t apply for a loan or financial aid. If I took every penny in my savings account, I wouldn’t even have enough for one semester.
With one single piece of paper, the last remaining good thing in my life had been taken from me. The dream of being an astronaut I’d had since I was seven shrank before my eyes. But I couldn’t conjure up even a single ounce of feeling. Not anger, not sorrow.
Nothing.
Because it all meant nothing.
“Maeve, what is it?” Kelly asked. I didn’t want to read the words out loud, didn’t want to speak them into being. I handed her the letter, watching her already stricken face crumple as the impact of the news hit her.
“No,” she whispered, her fingers curling around the paper, crumpling it in her rage. “It’s got to be some mistake. They can’t just take your scholarship away. You won that. You earned that. I won’t let them.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll go back to community college. I’ll apply again next year. Maybe I’ll get a private loan.” But even as I said the words, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. This was the last year I was eligible for the full ride scholarship.
“No way. You’re not waiting, and the loan…” Kelly didn’t want to say it would be hard to get that much money without our parents alive to cosign for it. “I know, we’ll sell the house. It’s ours now, right? We’ll sell it and we’ll use the money for your fees—”
I shook my head as I remembered. “Actually, no. This house belongs to the church. Mom and Dad were gifted it to live in only while he was pastor. Now that he’s not… they’re going to ask us to move out, I bet.”
“What?” Kelly screeched.
I nodded, staring at the second letter in my lap. The logo in the corner read “Emily Lawson, Solicitor” with an address in the United Kingdom. On any other day, I might find that curious. But now, it didn’t seem important. And I couldn’t handle any more bad news at the moment. My chest was already being squeezed in a vise.
Who cares that I just lost the best thing that ever happened to me? Who cares that without the scholarship I’d have to give up my place? Who gave a shit that Kelly and I would lose our home?
My parents were dead dead dead, and nothing would ever bring them back. And I could have saved them, I should have saved them, and I didn’t.
4<
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MAEVE
Most people spend the days after their twenty-first birthday with the worst hangover of their life. It was the reward for finally reaching adulthood – the gift of knowing you were no longer invincible, and that all your actions have consequences.
I was spending mine at my parents funeral. In terms of life lessons learned, I’d much rather have the hangover.
But that’s what happens when your name is Maeve Crawford and you live a cursed life where every imaginable shitty thing that could possibly happen to a person happens to you. It was almost laughable how little I was surprised.
I sat in the pew beside Kelly while the church band played Dad’s favorite worship song. Her hand gripped mine as a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Over the last week, Kelly cried practically every moment she was awake – she sobbed through the meeting with our family lawyer (when he showed us just how little money was in our parents’ accounts). She sniffled down the phone to reporters writing piece after sensational piece with headlines like COUNTY FAIR ENDS IN GRUESOME DEATHS and ARIZONA GOVERNOR CALLS FOR FERRIS WHEEL BAN. She bawled while Pastor Tim (formally assistant Pastor Tim) sat us down to talk about the “next phase of our life,” and informed us we’d need to move out by the end of the month. She sobbed while we discussed options with the funeral director, who gently guided us toward closed caskets, given the extensive burns and damage to our parents’ corpses.
She cried enough to start the second Biblical flood. Which was just as well, because I still hadn’t cried. Not once. I played the memory of the accident over and over, watching the Ferris wheel toppling from the sky, crashing into the tents, the flames tearing through the fairground like demons hellbent on destruction. I heard the screams, smelled the burning, felt the smoke scratching the back of my throat… but it felt like a dream, like some movie I’d seen.
The Castle of Earth and Embers (Briarwood Reverse Harem Book 1) Page 2
